The Richards family
Memory lane.
Sun Feb 5, 2017 23:58

“There’s snow everywhere.”

“Yes, Bailey.”

“All over the pitch.”

“It’s December, dear. These things happen.”

Bailey glanced up at her husband, the cloud of his breath colliding with her own. “You’re right,” she said. She walked around behind him, scooping up a glove full of snow as she went, and unceremoniously dumped it down the back of his jacket. Don jumped as the icy powder met the skin of his back, his gaze turning with betrayal to silently accuse his wife once his feet had returned to earth. “Hey,” she shrugged. “It’s December, dear. These things happen.”

Don laughed despite the nipping cold that lingered on his spine. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I know that even now this Pitch means a lot to you, but think of the positives. Look how much fun the snow is bringing the kids.” Her gaze followed the line of his gesture, and she smiled. Their daughter was attempting to build a snowman, her only source of progress the help lent by her big brother.

Bailey smiled. “Skylar’s ambitious,” she commented, her leather-bound fingers entangling with her husband’s. “She only just started to figure out circles, and already she’s trying to figure out spheres. Good thing she’s got Raja.”

“Good thing,” Don agreed. He squeezed her hand lightly. “Hey, do you see where they’re standing? I mean, the snow might make it harder, but do you remember that spot?”

“I remember every spot,” Bailey answered matter-of-factly.

“So you remember what happened right there?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Yeah,” she beamed. “I married this one guy. Maybe you know him?” It was just about the only time the weather on the Pitch had been cooperative with her interests - a phenomenon that had solidified her personal connection to it, made it feel now just like an old friend - when she walked down the pseudo-aisle and married her best friend.

Don craned his neck to look at her. He kissed what was available of her forehead not occupied by her hat or the blonde waves it pressed forward. “I think I remember him,” he said softly. “But I was too distracted by the bride.”

“Really?” she retorted playfully. “Because the groom was where it’s at. I mean, the bride wore converse!” Bailey had still not told her wedding planning sister-in-law that she’d completely disregarded the high heels she had painstakingly picked out for her.

“Fair. And those bridesmaids!” Don teased. Bailey withdrew her head and gave his arm a light punch. “You know I’m kidding!” he chuckled. She placed her head back on his shoulder, and for a few moments, they silently watched the kids play. They had almost a completed snowman when the head tumbled off. Skylar stamped her tiny, two-year-old feet, but Raja fixed it quickly enough to appease her little temper.

Don felt his wife shiver against his arm. “Hey, I know you love your Pitch and all, but what do you say we head inside? We can go over to the Cultural Studies classroom for the movie and some cocoa. I bet Estelle’s looking for you, anyway, and you know she’ll mutiny if we’re too long.”

“Yeah, alright,” Bailey agreed. “I want to come back tomorrow, though. Anniversary snowball fight, you and me, nine o’clock sharp.”

“You’re on,” he grinned. “Hey, kids! Time to go in!”

The former Quidditch coach grabbed the former caretaker by the collar of his jacket and pulled him to her. It was a bit chilly for much kissing, but she wouldn’t have minded horribly if they’d frozen that way. She let go of him just as the kids made it over to them, Skylar giggling happily as she rode on Raja’s shoulders. Don and Bailey walked off the pitch hand-in-hand as they had done nearly eight years ago to the day, but this time with their greatest accomplishments walking along beside them.

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